The Night He Fell Away From Me
by Shade Embry
Summary: When Doggett is abducted, his old partner desperately turns to Mulder, Scully and a task force to get him back.


TITLE: The Night He Fell Away From Me  
AUTHOR: Brittany "Thespis" Frederick  
E-MAIL: baltimorelt@yahoo.com  
SPOILERS: This Is Not Happening  
RATING: PG for language  
CATEGORY: Case File, Doggett/Other partnership  
SUMMARY: "I'm the last person who would believe," she  
said, "but everything that I look at is telling me the  
same thing. My partner - Agent Doggett - I think he's  
been abducted by some sort of alien life form, and  
I'll do anything you ask of me to get him back."  
DISCLAIMER: All nonoriginal content belongs to Chris  
Carter, 1013, and FOX. Agent Stark Patrick and all new  
content/ideas et cetera belong to me and I'm proud of  
it. Archive's okay, with my permission.  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I was particularly inspired by TINH,  
and the question rang in my head, if the tables had  
been reversed, how far would Mulder go to rescue  
Doggett? And of course it would change Doggett  
totally. I couldn't resist.  
  
This story takes place before Doggett joins the  
X-Files, in his fourth year of work in Criminal  
Investigations with Agent Patrick. I am therefore  
assuming that neither of them have heard of or  
interacted with the X-Files to any true extent ... but  
that's the fun in it right?  
  
  
This ain't about the things I've done, where I've been  
Lose what I've got, keep what I found  
It's about you  
This ain't about the things you said, or how you make  
me feel this way  
Lose what I've got, keep what I found  
It's about you  
When I get this feeling  
It's hard for me to come back down  
With everyone who sees me telling me to come back home  
It never could be easy  
- Train  
  
The picture could not have been more wrong.  
"You see anything, Travis?" Special Agent Stark  
Patrick called as she descended the hill into the  
field. What the hell was John Doggett doing in a  
fucking field at eleven a.m. on a work day with  
pending warrants out on three of their cases? Or the  
prime question: where the hell was John, period? She  
continued down the slope, walking faster now. The  
truth was she wanted to find him, but she was afraid  
to find him, too. She always feared the worst. The  
truth was that she had come to depend on him, and he  
had never done anything like this, and she knew he  
never would. John Doggett never left her without  
notice, never on a busy work day and not for some  
goddamned field in the middle of Virginia. He was in  
trouble and the partner's unspoken mandate was that  
she get him out of it. But first she would have to  
know what "it" was. And what "it" was was rapidly  
scaring the hell out of her.  
The other agent, a friend she'd borrowed from the  
office, shook his head. "Not a thing, Stark. You sure  
he's out here?"  
"Yeah, I'm sure," she said. "His truck's parked on  
the shoulder about a quarter mile back."  
"He can't just disappear," Agent Travis Jones  
groused, then continued to soldier forth. His answer  
did wonders for her discontent. She paused in the  
empty field, hands on her hips, slowing her breathing,  
looking out at absolutely nothing. "Shit," she  
muttered, looking down.  
Let's review the facts, she told herself. John's  
truck was indeed parked a quarter mile back on the  
shoulder of the road, which she knew was his usual  
work route. That's how she'd found him, backtracking  
until she'd spotted the Chevy here, maybe almost  
halfway to the Virginia border. The doors were locked  
and there was no evidence the Silverado had been  
tampered with, much less broken into. She could spot  
the case files they were supposed to be serving  
warrants for on the passenger seat, one of them still  
open. Using the spare key that John had given her for  
emergencies - he'd had no real reason why she might  
need it, only that she might, and now she knew why -  
her first impulse was to look in the glove box where  
he usually kept his gun until he got to work. It was  
empty. All evidence pointed to that her partner had  
seen something he didn't like, pulled over, grabbed  
his gun, gotten out of the car after locking it, then  
headed off into this field and simply vanished from  
the known world. But that was impossible - and what  
exactly had set off his alarm?  
"We got something," Travis's voice rang clear in the  
distance, and Stark snapped back to the present and  
took off at a dead run, the desperate run of a partner  
whose partner is imperiled beyond their own belief.  
She met him off in a clearing obscured by a rare tree,  
where he was kneeling. Even from a distance the  
reflections of the sun said he'd found something. She  
joined him and all she could say, looking down, was to  
mutter "God damn it."  
"There's his pager and his cell phone," explained  
Travis. "His gun's over here."  
"No wonder why I couldn't reach him when I called,"  
she muttered. "So whoever did this really doesn't want  
anyone to contact him."  
"That's not as bad as this," he said, then pointed  
out the gun. "Take a look at this, Stark. He can't be  
okay."  
His words were true and she knew it as soon as she  
looked at the gun. There was blood all over its front.  
"Freshly fired, one round, maybe two," he diagnosed  
and she nodded grimly. Somehow, if John had gotten  
shots off or not, that gun had gone off. And it had  
hit someone - but had it hit him? Was he now bleeding  
of multiple gunshot wounds while someone had him in  
their clutches? Terrified, she finally looked up at  
Travis. "Get that thing to Agent Crane at the crime  
lab. Tell him I want that blood typed and matched  
against John's medical records. And for him to run a  
Type A battery on the gun, too. I'll call it in."  
Travis nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm  
sorry," he said quietly, and she nodded silently as he  
bagged John's service weapon in a separate bag from  
the electronic devices, then headed back to the car  
they had driven to the site. Stark kneeled a moment  
longer. This wasn't like John. If he'd known he was in  
trouble, he would have left a sign. The question was,  
where was that sign? And where would it lead her? Head  
hung, the questions cycling through her mind, she  
walked the short distance back to the car, where she  
keyed the radio and said the words she had hoped she'd  
never have to say.  
"This is Agent Stark Patrick, off Preston Road,  
outside Falls Church, Virginia ... I have a missing  
agent with possible shots fired and related injuries.  
This is his last known location. I am requesting a  
full team and crime lab complement. Initial evidence  
is on its way."  
There was silence as she wiped mist from her eyes.  
"10-4, Agent Patrick. Do you know the identity of the  
agent?"  
She paused, his name caught in her throat. The name  
that always came so easily wouldn't come.  
"Agent Patrick, do you..."  
"Yes. I know him." She let out a choked cry, fighting  
it back with every ounce of stoicism she could spare.  
Not in front of the others. Later when she was alone,  
maybe. But to cry now was an act of weakness which she  
could not show. Which she could not have if she were  
to find him. Hell, she couldn't believe he was gone.  
She keyed the radio again. "He's my partner. John  
Doggett. Special Agent John Doggett."  
The radio handset collided with the steering column  
when she let it fall from her hands. She simply could  
not contain herself. There was no way she could face  
that he was missing without crying, without suffering  
for him, without wanting to trade places with him if  
that would bring him back. She turned into the car and  
let herself cry into the roof for a brief moment, then  
stepped back and looked at herself. Not now. She had  
to find him. She had to close the case, think like an  
agent, not clouded with all those emotions. There  
would be time for those and it was not now. She backed  
away, then slammed a fist hard into the space above  
where the door would have been. "Son of a bitch!" she  
exclaimed, her hand stinging with the impact of flesh  
and bone against reinforced metal. "They can't take  
him away from me, this ... this can't happen, not to him  
... not to him."  
"Stark?"  
She rubbed her red knuckles and looked at Travis.  
"I'm fine."  
He leaned against the federal sedan's hood, "Like  
hell you are."  
"Don't start with me," she cautioned, "don't goddamn  
start with me."  
"You always swear when you're screwed up," he  
replied. "We'll find him. Don't put yourself through  
this. We will find him."  
She glared hotly at him. "You're the one who said he  
can't be okay." Then she turned away, out to the  
field, speaking deliberately. Speaking to him,  
wherever he was. "He is my partner, and I will be here  
and anywhere else, and I will find him."  
Wherever John was, she hoped - no, she knew - he knew  
she was coming for him.  
  
END PART 1  
  
It was like this: she may have put the picture in the  
frame, but it was as if somebody had come along and  
hit it with a hammer in that bizarre little way that  
causes the glass of the frame to crack in God knows  
how many pieces while still remaining in place, a  
grotesque portrait of chaos frozen in time.  
Twenty minutes after she made the call, the field off  
Preston Road was swarming with fellow agents, some of  
whom had been assigned to take the missing agent call  
that the dispatcher had immediately red-flagged, some  
of whom had come on their own once they had heard  
exactly who it was that had gone missing - to some a  
friend, to others a co-worker, to all of them someone  
who they were more than willing to help locate. But  
Stark Patrick knew well the Latonya Wallace probe of  
1988 - she herself had opened the case again and  
failed - and so she took appropriate cautions. A small  
contingent of agents, those who knew John best and  
those who she most trusted, worked the actual area  
where the evidence had been found, the last place they  
could tie her partner to. The others fanned out,  
searching the massive field for any other sign. The  
sign that Stark knew was out there. By the unspoken  
rule, she had complete command, unquestioned and  
unchallenged, of what was developing in that field off  
Preston Road. When one of their own went missing, his  
or her partner was always in charge. There could be no  
better person, after all, and every agent knew the  
feeling of revenge and desperation that came with  
being the partner of a missing person. However, Agent  
Stark Patrick, aside from occasional instructions and  
directing of traffic, chose for the most part not to  
assume the privilege.  
She sat in the passenger seat of the gold sedan that  
she had driven up to the scene, paperwork about her.  
Open files lay on the driver's seat, across her lap,  
on the dashboard; others were stacked neatly in the  
back seat. They were the ones that had been lifted  
from the Silverado, as well as anything Stark could  
think of back at their office at the Hoover Building  
that may have been relevant. Watching her go through  
those meticulously kept, extensive file cabinets was  
an exercise in sympathy, as she moved with a  
calculated but frustrated motion, yanking out file  
after file in the hope that one of them, somewhere in  
the detailed reports, photographs, notations,  
documents and so on and so forth that she and John had  
always kept, would yield some sort of answer. It was  
the only time she ever left that field off Preston  
Road, and to those who knew her, it was not  
surprising.   
Now she paged again the one that had been open on the  
passenger seat of her partner's truck, the Devane  
case, on which they were supposed to be serving a  
search warrant that very day in an attempt to close  
the grand larceny case. Grand larcenies were never  
hard to track with large numbers involved and Stark  
had been sure that the case would close with the  
warrant. John seemed to share that feeling. But there  
would be none of the slight adrenaline rush of  
breaking doors and hunting for the penultimate clue,  
not in that case. Not with him.   
Not with him. The words seemed impossible.  
"What are you looking at?" Travis Jones asked as he  
opened the driver's side door and leaned on it. As a  
friend of both partners, he was point on the  
contingent searching John's last pinpointed location,  
along with his partner, who he'd grabbed from the CID  
office, but hadn't really needed to. They were both  
more than willing to help out, and they were the  
closest friends in the office that Stark had. They  
sincerely cared, and that was why Travis had the look  
on his face that he did.  
She glanced up after a moment. "Devane case. We were  
serving the warrant today."  
He nodded, then looked over his shoulder and back.  
"Listen, I think there's something you're going to  
want to see."  
Stark was out of the car and circling it in a  
heartbeat, falling into step with him. "What? What is  
it?" she demanded impatiently, with the desperation  
that had become commonplace in her voice, even if it  
was carefully masked. Travis lead her down the hill  
and back into the valley, towards where his group was  
clustered, the spot that Stark knew well. The spot  
where there was still blood on the grass.  
Travis caught up with his partner, and said in a  
quiet voice, "Show her, Gary."  
Agent Gary Edson, who was Travis Jones' partner and  
one of the best known agents for profiling, didn't say  
anything that moment, simply stepped out of the way to  
let Stark take a look at what his team had run across.  
She stood there, hands on hips, as she had so often  
done today, and stared. "What? What am I looking at?"  
she asked Edson, who pointed down at the grass, which  
was slightly singed. "It's been exposed to fire," he  
explained, "but it didn't burn. As if something really  
hot had landed on it. For example, a flashlight."  
Travis handed Stark a pair of photos of another field  
and Edson came over to join them to explain exactly  
what it was she was looking at. "This is Bellefleur,  
Oregon," Edson explained. "A while back, two guys  
think they see something in this field, so they head  
down there. One of them's carrying a flashlight. So  
they head down there. Reports are that flashlight gets  
really hot, starts glowing red, the one guy drops it  
where it is. They start moving, but before they get  
too far, God knows what happens and the guy who had  
that flashlight disappears."  
Stark looked down at the grass, then the photos. "The  
gun." She glanced at the two agents. "You think it was  
the gun?"  
"We think so, yeah," Travis said. "They're both metal  
objects."  
She glanced back down at the photos, "Do they know  
how or why this man disappeared?"  
Edson didn't explain much but he didn't have to.  
"It's an X-File." Seeing the wide-eyed look on her  
face, he continued as if to soften her skepticism,  
"There's a living witness. A guy named Billy Miles."  
Stark paused. "So what you're saying is the best  
theory that we have is that my partner is randomly  
wandering out here because he saw something and he  
wandered into, what, an alien spaceship? That my  
partner was abducted by goddamn aliens?" Her voice  
rose with incredulity by the end of the sentence and  
she sighed. "No frickin' way."  
"We're not saying that," Travis replied. "We're  
saying it's a chance."  
Stark hung her head. It all seemed so cyclical to  
her. She'd heard from John the long, agonizing ordeal  
of trying to find his missing son, and how it all  
ended with a body in a field. John had chased Luke to  
the ends of the earth - or at least to the end. And  
now here she was, in a field chasing John possibly  
beyond that. We'd better get one damn thing straight,  
she told herself, this time it's not going to end with  
any body in a field. Except for the people who did  
this to him.  
"Results from the crime lab are back," said another  
agent in the distance.  
Stark, Travis and Edson all looked in the direction  
of the vehicles parked on the side of the road, where  
the agent had the radio at the ready. Listening as  
well were all the agents, who had stopped their  
ministrations to hear the news that might make them or  
break them. The agent exhaled. "Crane ran a blood  
test. Part of that blood belongs to Agent Doggett."  
Her eyes widened. "God," she said, not wanting to  
think of the implication.  
Travis interjected into her thoughts. "Part? What  
about the rest?"  
The agent shook his head. "They can't identify it."  
The three agents looked from the photos to each other  
as the facts slowly began to paint a picture that was  
hard to believe. Aliens and flashlights and towns in  
Oregon. This was not supposed to happen. One of the  
best agents the Bureau had known in recent years could  
not be snatched by little green men. And yet, there it  
was.  
Edson looked up at the sky. "He must have hit it."  
Travis glanced at him. "The question is what it is."  
"And where it is." Stark glanced up at the agent by  
the vehicles, "Tell Agent Crane I want to talk to  
him."  
Edson and Travis, after putting the team with whom  
they shared an office in charge for the moment,  
pursued her back to the sedan. She set the photos on  
the roof and continued to stare at them as she took  
the radio from the agent and spoke exhaustedly to  
Agent Gene Crane, who had been Doggett's go-to guy in  
the crime lab. Is, she corrected herself. Present  
tense. Nothing says we're going to find a body in a  
field. Absolutely nothing. We've just got fucking  
aliens, but no signs of a body anywhere.  
She didn't add the known 'yet'.  
She keyed the radio.  
"Tell me that you're sure, Gene," she told him. "I  
need to know that you're sure."  
"I triple-checked it personally," Crane replied, his  
voice earmarked with the same emotions and the  
sympathy that she had been getting from everyone all  
day. "There's no doubt in my mind. He fired two  
rounds. Part of that blood is his, and the rest ... I  
don't know what it is."  
Stark sighed. "All right. Keep trying. The guys will  
send stuff when they find it. I want you to take care  
of it and contact me if you find anything."  
"You know I will," Crane said, then paused. "We'll  
find him, Stark."  
"Yeah, we will." She hung up the radio back on its  
holster in the sedan, then moved the files out of the  
driver's seat and slid into their place, reaching for  
her keys in her pants pocket. Travis and Edson, still  
standing by the car, looked at her with questioning  
glances. She moved the rest of the files off of the  
front of the car and tossed the photos they had given  
her onto the dashboard, then glanced up at them as if  
to ask what they were waiting for.  
"Get in the car," she commanded.   
Travis popped open the back door as Edson circled  
around. "Where are we going?"  
Stark gunned the engine. "The basement."  
Everything in the car flared to life. The engine, the  
lights, everything came alive, much like the woman at  
the wheel, who cleanly backed out with a rapid and  
forceful turning of the wheel (she drove like a stunt  
driver, John had remarked, like he was much better),  
and then ground the gas pedal into the floor and got  
away from Preston Road as fast as the federal vehicle  
would allow. The question was not where she was  
headed, but what she might be running from in that  
desire for that burst of speed.   
Of course, or at least until they winced and leaned  
back in the seats, Travis and Edson forgot about the  
CD player, and were greeted with a burst of Incubus at  
an unholy volume.   
A decade ago I never thought I would be  
On the verge of spontaneous combustion  
But I guess it comes with the territory  
Exploding seems like an evident possibility to me  
So pardon me while I burst into flames  
I've had enough of the world and its people's mindless  
games  
So pardon me while I burn and rise above the flame  
Pardon me ... I'll never be the same  
"What a freakin' coincidence," was Travis's comment  
from the back seat.  
Edson looked at him unconvinced. "I don't believe in  
coincidence."  
  
  
For a moment, at least, the basement was not just for  
the FBI's Most Unwanted. It was for them and a very  
angry, very emotionally scattered, truly driven young  
agent whose escorts had let her do the delving into  
the infamous world of aliens and the unexplained. And  
she bore that acquiesence well, moving with the same  
deliberate swiftness she had since this whole thing  
went down right before her eyes, the eyes now haunted  
with having to be the first person to see it all. His  
body may as well have been there; the effect was the  
same. She didn't want to think about it as she opened  
the door to the basement office.  
Fox Mulder and Dana Scully looked to the woman in the  
doorway simultaneously, but gave her their attention.  
Mulder swiveled in his chair to face her and put down  
the file he was reading. Scully, unobstructed, simply  
waited. It was not often that they had visitors, and  
everyone - even underground as they were - had heard  
the news that something big involving one of their own  
had broken this morning.  
"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully," Stark said by way of  
introduction as she stepped into their office and  
closed the door.   
"Can we help you with something?" Mulder asked,  
"Agent..."  
"Patrick, Stark," she said, her voice still worn and  
perhaps tense. "The evidence seems to think that you  
can. You investigated an X-File in Bellefleur, Oregon,  
right?" she continued, laying the photos she had been  
given on Mulder's desk.  
He glanced at them. "Yeah. Billy Miles."  
"So I've been told," she said.  
"Agent Patrick," Scully cut in, "is there some sort of  
connection between this and something that you're  
working on? Is that why you need to know?"  
Patrick nodded, turning to her. "Yes. My partner has  
gone missing, and ... one of the agents at the scene  
spotted similar burns on the grass in that field as in  
the one in this photo." She sighed. "I'm the last  
person who would believe," she said, "but everything  
that I look at is telling me the same thing. My  
partner - Agent Doggett - I think he's been abducted  
by some sort of alien life form, and I'll do anything  
you ask of me to get him back."  
There was silence in the room for a moment until  
Mulder spoke.  
"Your partner's John Doggett?" he asked.  
Stark glanced at him, "Yes. You know him?"  
Mulder stood from behind his desk. "I heard this  
morning that there had been a missing agent case. I  
didn't expect that it would be him. We've never met,  
but I heard he's high on the list of possible future  
Directors of the FBI."  
She shook her head. "I wouldn't know anything about  
that."  
Scully examined the photos, including the one Travis  
had taken from the Preston Road scene, "She's right,  
Mulder, I see a resemblance to Bellefleur in these  
photos."  
Mulder nodded. "Let's do what they pay us for,  
Scully." Then he said the comment that he'd apparently  
been waiting to say. "It's good to meet you, Agent  
Patrick. I only wish it could be under better  
circumstances."  
Stark nodded soberly. "I think we all do, Agent  
Mulder."  
  
"Walk us through it, Agent Patrick," Mulder directed  
as the five agents climbed out of the vehicle, which  
had this time parked a distance back down the road  
from what was quickly becoming a federal parking lot.  
Stark did as she was instructed, taking point in the  
procession and attempting to explain the dizzying  
events of only the last few hours but what seemed like  
days.  
"John - Agent Doggett was due in by five. We were  
serving several warrants today, one of which was going  
to be in the early morning, maybe six-thirty. He  
always calls when he's late, so when he didn't call or  
show up, I tried both his cell phone and pager. I  
couldn't reach him. I know the route he takes to  
work," she continued, catching the weird look from  
Mulder, "because I do, so I backtracked it until I  
came across his truck. I looked around for maybe  
twenty minutes, then I called Agent Jones. We started  
the search."  
They descended the hill into the field. Many agents  
recognized Spooky Mulder and his partner on sight, but  
their reactions were well under control, distracted by  
the paramount task at hand. The detail team parted as  
Stark lead Mulder and Scully to the location where  
Travis had shown her previously, taking care to stay  
far away from the blood.   
"After a while of wandering around, Agent Jones found  
Agent Doggett's cell phone and pager over here," she  
pointed as she spoke, "and we found his gun over here.  
It was freshly fired and fairly coated in blood on its  
front end. Sending it down to the crime lab, we found  
two rounds had been fired. Part of the blood was typed  
against Agent Doggett's medical records and matched.  
The other part of it, the crime lab can't identify."  
Mulder and Scully looked at each other.   
"His truck hasn't been broken into or tampered with,"  
Stark continued. "I have a key to the vehicle so I  
lifted the case files he'd been reading from the  
passenger seat and into my car. The gun was of course  
out of the glove box, but the vehicle was locked when  
I arrived and it doesn't appear he left in a hurry.  
Our theory is he saw something that demanded his  
attention, made a U-turn - that would explain why it's  
parked on this side of the road - got out of the truck  
with his gun, locked the vehicle and proceeded into  
the field where he..." She couldn't say the word, but  
looked away. "I'm going to go back to the car."  
Edson and Travis went back to managing the detail,  
herding it away so that the two new agents could do  
their jobs. Scully knelt by the spot of grass  
indicated by the photo and began to take a sample for  
comparison against what they had seen in Bellefleur.  
"What do you think, Mulder?" she asked of her partner.  
"Blood they can't identify, similar burns, another  
field in the middle of nowhere..." Mulder looked up at  
the sky. "It's a similar case, Scully. We've got to  
give them that. And agents as highly touted as John  
Doggett don't turn their vehicles around on their way  
to work, leap out with their service weapons and lock  
the doors on the way out on a lark. He saw something,  
and my guess is it got him, but not before he got it."  
Scully lifted several pieces of grass, some burnt but  
not bloodied, some both, placing them into separate  
small evidence bags. "It's an X-File, then."  
"Yeah, much to the dismay of Agent Patrick out there,"  
Mulder replied, looking at the agent who was speaking  
briefly with another agent before she turned and  
headed back toward the gold sedan.  
"She does seem a little uncomfortable with it," Scully  
observed.  
"A little? I don't think she's ever heard the word  
paranormal, or if she did she wasn't really  
listening." Mulder sighed. "See what else you can  
find. I'm going to talk to her."  
"Mulder..."  
Mulder looked back. "What?"  
"Don't try and scare her the first time out."  
He simply shrugged and headed off back up the hill,  
leaving Scully to watch him go and shake her head. The  
Bureau would simply love that the disappearance of one  
of their agents tagged to make it all the way to the  
top was entangled with something as tawdry as an  
X-File. And she for one wasn't looking forward to the  
hunting season that would occur when Mulder, or Agent  
Patrick, or any of these other agents, turned in the  
final report on their preliminary evaluation of just  
what John Doggett was doing, where he might be and  
what might be happening to him.  
She turned back to the grass. There were times she  
wished she had listened to her father.  
But not many.  
  
  
Mulder approached Agent Patrick, who was standing with  
the driver's side door open either knowingly or  
unknowingly, clearly interested in something she was  
reading. He knew the feeling, he reflected with  
sadness. He had been the same way for all those years  
he'd been hunting for Samantha. She looked like she  
had so much more ahead of her.  
"You're hurting, aren't you?" he said.  
She glanced up. "Excuse me?"  
"For your partner. You'd do anything to take his pain  
away from him." Mulder stepped over to her and said  
with some stinging suffering of his own, "I know the  
feeling."  
She shook her head. "Not like this."  
"No, I think I do." Mulder sighed. "Let me guess.  
You've worked with him for a while."  
"This is our fourth year."  
"And he's always there when you need him, and before  
you know it the two of you are the best of friends,  
and you know everything that you need to know about  
him, and you always swore that you would catch him  
when he fell, because he always catches you, but this  
time it's your turn and you don't really know what to  
think because you never expected it would happen."  
Stark clapped the file shut and looked hard at him.  
"What are you trying to say, Agent Mulder?"  
Mulder pointed down into the field, where Scully was  
clearly visible, a small figure in the distance  
identifiable by her height and distinctive hair color.  
"Seven years now I've been working with Agent Scully.  
We didn't trust each other at first, but now ... now I  
don't know what I'd do without her. We've survived so  
much together. She is, without a doubt, my life. And I  
know that you have that same feeling. I can see it in  
your eyes." He paused. "I understand that about you. I  
understand the desperate chase of trying to find  
someone who means so much to you. It's happened to me.  
With Scully and with my sister. That's why you're so  
determined to find him. You can't think about what  
happens if you don't."  
Now she got defensive. "No, no, no. There is no don't.  
I'll find him." She shook her head. "Listen, Agent  
Mulder, I know that people can be a little cutthroat  
when it comes to talking about the X-Files, but I'll  
let you know that I don't care if this involves aliens  
or alien spaceships or aliens that transmogrify into  
God knows what. All I care about is getting my partner  
back."   
Mulder watched her as she took a few steps away from  
the car, away from him, with that irritated,  
frustrated, down-on-her-everything look on her face,  
looking out into the distance. Stark sucked in a  
breath, then winced briefly as she felt a sharp pain  
in her head. Her right hand went to her right temple  
and she didn't know why. Then all of a sudden, it all  
became clear.  
Somewhere ... out in the middle of nowhere, much like  
this moment ... was a place. A vision flashed across her  
eyes. Somehow familiar, somehow not. Of a man she'd  
never met in a place she'd never been to. But somehow,  
she knew him, and she knew that place, and she knew  
what she had to do.  
"Agent Patrick?"  
She turned, startled, to face Mulder. "What?"  
"Are you okay?" he inquired, voice concerned.  
She walked back towards him, shaking off the  
telepathic vision she'd just seen. "Yeah, yeah, I'm  
fine. I need you ... I need you to get Agent Jones and  
Agent Edson and Agent Scully back in the car. Tell  
them to put Agent Webb in charge. We need to get out  
of here."  
"To where?"  
"Somewhere. I don't know. I saw it." She sighed. "Tell  
Edson to get me a direct link to the NCIC Morpho."  
Mulder paused. "Wait, you saw what?"  
She looked back at where she'd been standing. "I just  
saw something. It's like I went out of my mind, to, to  
somewhere else. I saw this man at this place in the  
middle of nowhere, and I just think I need to trust my  
instincts and that's where we need to go."  
Mulder nodded, in no mood to question. "I don't think  
Scully's the only one that's psychic anymore," he  
muttered to himself as he walked away and did as he  
was told. Agent Jones, Agent Edson and Scully all  
obediently came running at his call, leaving their  
backup man, Agent Derrick Webb, in charge of the field  
off Preston Road while what was quickly becoming known  
as 'the Spooky caravan' piled themselves back into the  
vehicle. Edson punched a few buttons on the computer  
terminal in the front of the sedan, then got out of  
the way so Mulder could sit in the passenger seat.  
Stark turned the vehicle on, and this time everyone  
got an earful of Psykosonic's "Panik Kontrol" much to  
Travis and Edson's renewed discomfort. She didn't  
notice, however, her fingers flying across the  
keyboard as she input everything she had seen into the  
search engine. Pictures flew across the screen as the  
computer narrowed them down, then finally, it came to  
a stop.  
The man was in his late thirties, early forties,  
haunted eyes and blond hair, with that crazy look like  
you didn't know if he was going to go postal or not.  
Stark let out a small gasp and Mulder glanced at her.  
"What?" he said.   
She was still speechless, wild-eyed, definitely  
shocked. And frightened. Which considering that she  
had kept up a wall of stoicism and a  
never-let-them-see-you-sweat approach all day,  
therefore scared Mulder.  
"Do you know this guy?" he asked her.  
Stark really didn't know what to say. "Not really.  
I've never met him but for some reason, I just ... I saw  
him in that vision. Who the hell is he and what the  
fuck does he have to do with this?"  
Mulder looked down at the printout. "Why don't we go  
ask Mister," he looked down at the information portion  
of the screen which was organized just enough as to  
confuse him from finding the information he wanted.  
Scully cut in impatiently, "What's his name, Mulder?"  
"Absalom."  
  
END PART 2  
  
If the frame had already been shattered, it was a  
matter of time before the picture followed suit. Stark  
Patrick reflected on this as she stood in a whole  
other field, far away from Preston Road, near the  
Virginia border. Mulder, Scully, Edson and Travis all  
stood beside her. Only Mulder had the ability to say  
anything as they glanced around at where this  
desperate chase had lead them.  
"What are we looking for?"  
Their 'leader' shook her head. "I don't know."  
"Are we in the right place?"  
"Yes."   
"So what do we do?"  
"Damn it, Agent Mulder, I don't know!" Her voice  
reached a new volume there, a volume of frenzied  
self-anger and self-hatred and disbelief and paranoia,  
all emotions raging inside of her without her loyal  
partner to keep her in check. The sound of her voice,  
the force behind it, stunned them all into renewed  
silence in the moments before she regained control of  
herself, speaking then in a distraught tone. "While  
you were rounding up the troops, I called a friend of  
Agent Doggett's that may be able to help us find out  
something. She should be here any minute."  
Another voice then, as if on cue: "Agent Patrick?"  
Stark's head jerked up at the woman coming down the  
embankment to join them, and she mustered a weak  
smile. "Agent Reyes. Thank you for making it."  
Reyes held her comment until she was face to face  
with the younger agent. She flashed a smile, but her  
eyes were haunted with the same cognizance of the news  
that Stark had given her over the phone. "I was able  
to get an immediate flight. When you said that this  
was about Agent Doggett ... I didn't see it as an  
option."  
"I appreciate that." Stark turned to her companions.  
"Agent Reyes, I'd like you to meet Agents Mulder and  
Scully of the X-Files section, and Agents Jones and  
Edson of Criminal Investigations. This is Agent Monica  
Reyes. She worked a case with Agent Doggett," she  
explained, omitting exactly which case. They didn't  
need to know about that. It was far too personal and  
it was irrelevant this moment.  
Reyes took over before Stark had to struggle with  
finding more words. "Agent Patrick filled me in on  
what you have so far, what got you here, this  
connection to this man Absalom. I took the liberty of  
seeing what the NCIC knows about him." She paused for  
effect. "He was the former leader of a cult in Idaho  
based around his idea that the aliens would take over  
the world at Y2K," she ignored Mulder's smirk at that  
statement. "When the little green men failed to  
appear, he disappeared from there and he mostly does  
credit card fraud these days. His last known location  
was somewhere in Oregon."   
Scully spoke what everyone was thinking.  
"Bellefleur."  
"I wouldn't rule it out," Reyes allowed for the  
possibility. She glanced up as she formulated her next  
sentence. "I searched all federal, state and  
correctional databases in the state of Virginia within  
a ten-mile radius of Preston Road for the last week.  
Absalom was arrested for credit card fraud and grand  
larceny three days ago. He's currently being held at  
the state correctional facility pending his  
arraignment which is scheduled for the day after  
tomorrow. It's some eight miles from Preston Road."  
Edson paused. "So our theory is what, this mystery man  
escapes a state prison and is randomly wandering  
around this field and abducts Agent Doggett?"  
Scully shook her head. "No. It doesn't make sense.  
Absalom is human. The crime lab would have gotten a  
hit on his blood. He would have been in the system by  
today."  
Mulder thought this through, "What if he was after the  
same thing that Agent Doggett was after?" He glanced  
at Reyes, "Is he accounted for at the facility?"  
She nodded. "I had the warden check personally."  
"Then how did he escape?" Travis posed. "If we know  
how he made it, it might be a clue to finding out how  
to beat this thing."  
"He escaped because it wanted him to," Stark spoke up  
finally. She glanced firmly at Reyes. "What if - what  
if Absalom was baiting John on purpose? To get him  
into the hands of this ... this thing. And that's why it  
didn't take him. And then he knows where John is."  
Reyes nodded. "That's one hell of a theory."  
"It's the best one I've got." She sighed. "What do  
they want with him?"  
Reyes put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't think about  
it."  
"I have to. It's the solution." Stark stepped back and  
started up the embankment. "I want to talk to this  
guy. I want to know what connection he has to this. I  
want the answer and I think he's got it."  
Mulder paused. "All lies lead to the truth?"  
Scully had the rejoinder for that one. "The spirit is  
the truth, Mulder."  
"Something you put on your tombstone." Mulder let out  
a dry chuckle. "Excuse me if that's not confidence  
inspiring." He looked up at Agent Patrick, headed for  
their vehicle. "We will find him, Agent Patrick. I  
promise you that."  
"Thank you, Agent Mulder," she said sadly. "I hope  
that that's true."  
  
  
The Virginia State Central Correctional Facility was  
nowhere that Stark had ever personally been. She had  
been to Crystal City and the Federal Statistics Center  
there once or twice when she'd been assigned  
administrative duties for the Assistant Director, but  
she had never been involved with the Department of  
Corrections. She wished that she had, however. It  
would have taken the edge off walking into an  
interrogation room and resisting the urge to fly  
across the table and strangle the man looking at her  
with vacant eyes.  
"Where the hell is my partner?"  
Absalom still looked dazed. "I don't know what you're  
talking about."  
"Preston Road. This morning. You had my partner  
abducted," she said tersely, throwing down a handful  
of photos in front of him, including copies of the  
snapshots that she had shown the others, and another  
of Doggett's current ID photo. Absalom made no move to  
examine them.  
"Did I?" He almost seemed amused. "They say that I've  
done lots of things. Not all of them are true."  
"Don't play this with me," she said, leaning across  
the table, getting into his face, restraining herself  
with everything that took. "You believe that the  
aliens are coming. You baited them with my partner.  
You baited my partner and they have him and you know  
how I can end this. Tell me what happened. Tell me how  
to stop it."  
"I don't know what happens beyond the fields." He  
sighed as if he was trying to be helpful. "They tell  
me who. They get them there. I make sure that the  
people are there when they arrive. Then they complete  
the transfer."  
Stark was quickly losing patience. "They told you to  
take my partner. You're telling me they somehow made  
it that he would have to see you out there. You  
distracted him long enough for them to take him and  
now you don't know?" She let out a bitter laugh but  
inside she was scared. If this were true, then these  
people ... these things ... whatever that had snatched  
John from her had to know more about him than they  
should. That he had to pass Preston Road in the  
morning. And they were waiting for him. But 'why'  
still bit at the back of her mind. She had the  
middleman. She wanted the enterprise.  
"Tell me how to find him."  
Absalom paused. "When they are through ... sometimes  
people return. Those who do not have their place in  
the grand plan. Or those that do."  
"Don't doublespeak when you're talking to me." She  
reached over and grabbed him by the collar. "Where do  
they go? When? How the hell will I know when it's his  
time? Tell me the answer!"  
"A week previously it was a woman. They returned her  
the day before I arrived here. To their compound."  
"Shit." She paused. "Four days ago. That means that  
John has three days left. Where the hell is this  
place?"  
"You were there."  
"The second field." Stark shook her head. "God damn  
it!"  
Red flashed before her eyes. Blood red. And she pulled  
back a fist and let go, colliding with Absalom's  
forehead, sending him tumbling back, to the concrete  
floor with a sickening sound. Almost instantly she was  
over him again, ready to end it all, not caring what  
might happen. But Mulder burst through the door and  
grabbed her, holding her back, pulling her away before  
she had a chance to strike the killing blow. She  
almost thought it was unnecessary. Only the eventual  
opening of Absalom's eyes told her that she hadn't  
already killed him.  
"What do you think you're doing?" Mulder demanded.  
She bit her lip to control her anger. "It's justice."  
"For who?"  
"For John. For me. For all of us." She couldn't look  
away from Absalom. "He set John up. He's set them all  
up. He's responsible. Him and his alien masters. This  
is about justice."  
Mulder shook his head. "If he's right ... in three days  
your partner's going to come back to that second  
field, to that building. Let's find it. Let's be ready  
for him. Don't waste your time on this."  
"It's not a waste of time."  
She broke out of Mulder's hold and stormed out of the  
interrogation room, where she collapsed against the  
wall and closed her eyes. This made no sense. If  
Absalom was correct, this wasn't just about her  
partner anymore. It was about God knew how many other  
people and whatever was wanted with them. Which posed  
the question: what did they want with John? And how  
far were they willing to go to get it? How far were  
she and her own willing to go to get him back?  
There was no decision.  
As far as it took.  
Three days and it might all be over.  
Or it could just be beginning.  
"Stark..."  
"Damn it, not now, Jones." She turned and started  
walking back down the corridor, even though she knew  
he would follow. It had almost been simpler, easier,  
when it was just a missing persons case. But if this  
was all about some huge abduction conspiracy, it was  
out of proportion. And perhaps more frightening, out  
of her hands. She finally turned and stopped when they  
were out of the earshot of all the others, catching  
Travis's concerned gaze one more time.  
"What did he tell you?"  
"That if John's abduction follows the pattern of the  
one before..." Her voice started to crack. "If it does ...  
then in three days they'll put him back at this  
compound back in that field I saw."  
"How'd you see it anyway?"  
"I don't know. Maybe it was panic. Maybe John's  
communicating to me. Maybe they want me next." She  
sighed. "I can't wait three days, Jones. I need him  
with me now."  
"The warrants can wait."  
"It's not about the warrants. It's about having my  
partner back. About doing all the things we usually  
do. Having those drinks after work to celebrate  
closing those cases. Filing those reports exactly in  
the right order. Driving over the speed limit. Having  
actual conversations that don't always have to be  
about work. Hell, just the sound of his voice..." She  
was starting to cry now, and she hated it. She was not  
supposed to show weakness in front of fellow agents.  
John was the only one she felt comfortable letting her  
wall down around. And remembering that only made this  
sudden fit of separation anxiety worse. "I need him  
back, Travis. Not as my partner. As my friend." She  
echoed Mulder, knowing he was right. "As my world."  
Travis nodded. "Maybe you should go home."  
"I'm not going home," she said, perhaps a bit  
harshly. "I'm not going home. I can't sleep anyway and  
it's not even the evening yet. I'm going to find this  
compound and I'm going to wait for him."  
"It's three days, Stark. There's time."  
"Time to screw things up, you mean." She shook her  
head. "Let's go. We're done."  
"Let's find this place," he echoed her. "Then promise  
me you'll go home and try to get some sleep."  
"What if it's not my apartment?"  
He looked at her, confused. "Where else would it be?"  
She fingered another key on her key ring. "Falls  
Church."  
"Damn it, don't do that to yourself," he said, knowing  
what she meant.  
"Don't do what? As much as I hate to admit it - he's  
the one man that I need in my life. And he's not here.  
It's the only place I know left to me where I can  
turn."  
Except, she said silently to herself, another field  
near the Virginia border.  
Where somewhere out in its distance was a compound.  
A compound that belonged to forces beyond her  
understanding.  
Who in three days would come there again.  
And in doing so return her partner to this earth.  
And make everything clear.  
And give her a chance for revenge.  
  
END PART 3  
  
The first day had been a nightmare, which, after more  
questioning of their only living lead, became a rush  
from one place to another in an attempt to put it all  
together. Traveling back out to that second field at  
the Virginia border to scout a so-called compound,  
which when they looked at it appeared to be no more  
than an abandoned structure. Stark almost couldn't  
believe this was her key to finding John again. Then  
she returned to the Preston Road site to get a  
heads-up with Derrick Webb, and she had left Edson and  
Jones there to go back to securing that scene while  
Derrick took her back to meet with Gene Crane and go  
over the new findings and the exhaustive batteries of  
tests that they had run on everything that came back.  
After that she had sat in her - their - office and  
gone over more case files until Derrick had gotten a  
hold of her and personally insisted that she go home.  
And she had, for maybe an hour or two, enough to  
answer more phone messages with condolences from those  
just now hearing about her desperate manhunt and to  
pack some of her things, and then she drove out to  
Falls Church, being careful not to pass the site where  
work was still going on in the early evening before  
she arrived at the last place anyone thought she  
should be. She hadn't slept there, either.  
Day two didn't get much better. She had come in late,  
spending her morning on John's couch going over case  
file after case file and her rapidly expanding file  
from his disappearance, putting all the pieces into  
place in a whirlwind of papers, photographs, reports,  
statements and even maps. While the facts began to  
gel, the truth remained that she was playing her whole  
hand on an unexpected vision and an unreliable  
explanation, and that none of it really made sense.  
However, the compound in the Virginia border field was  
the best that she had, and she was going to take the  
leap, she decided as she headed back into the Hoover  
Building's maelstrom. There she got a full briefing  
from Derrick, Travis and Edson, who had done the same  
thing she had on a larger scale. They compared notes  
in the FBI's huge main conference room with a  
half-dozen white boards and the two dozen agents  
involved in the probe, reconstructing John's last  
hours, what they knew about the abduction cases, and  
what in one matched with something in the other. That  
took a few more hours. Then Derrick and the guys had  
insisted on taking Stark out to a local club, where  
she had her share of drinks but couldn't shake the  
feeling that her partner had two more days before he  
was coming home to her. If he was at all. No, she  
corrected, he was coming home.  
But it wasn't easy for her to think that. Even she  
had begun to doubt, even in her blind rage. It wasn't  
like he was coming home from a vacation he'd forgotten  
to tell her about. He had been purposefully abducted.  
Things were different now. And she had failed to  
consider what might happen when he came back. Would he  
be different? He had to be. Yet she didn't want to ask  
questions she couldn't answer. She had enough of  
those.  
Day three went in slow motion, an agonizing reminder  
that if all went well, the next day they would end  
this whole roller coaster of suffering. There was  
another six-hour morning planning session in the  
conference room, then they had walked through John's  
last hours as best as they were able to put them  
together, trying to reenact the events, trying to find  
therein the answer. That evening Mulder and Scully  
returned from a brief sojourn back to Bellefleur,  
where they had gone over details of the abductions  
there with details of Doggett's, and reported with  
more than a little regret how for the most part they  
had found nothing of any real use in finding her  
partner. Everyone returned to the conference room to  
develop their plan for the next day. Absalom and  
common sense dictated everything would come down at  
night, but they wanted to be ready for any moment, any  
happening. They had come too far - and perhaps too  
fast - to let this slip out of their hands now. None  
of them slept that night.  
But the day had finally arrived. Day four. The day  
when, with all luck, John Doggett would be coming back  
to them. And watching Stark in his Falls Church home,  
Monica Reyes was grateful for that on more than one  
account - and especially on the account of the woman  
she'd been assigned to watch over, the woman who  
needed him most.  
"Why are you still here?" she'd prompted.  
"Hey, I'm cleaning."  
Monica glanced around. "I thought the place was  
pretty clean to begin with."  
"It is."  
"I didn't think you cleaned."  
"I don't."  
Monica crossed from the kitchen to the couch where  
Stark had finally taken a rest. "I'm feeling a lot of  
frustration from you."  
"With good reason."  
"Stark, we have everything planned out. Trust us."  
Stark nodded. "But see, here's the thing: plans go  
wrong. The unexpected happens. Weapons jam. Vehicles  
die. People screw up. And I need this case to go down.  
I need my partner back." She sighed. "He's been the  
only partner I have ever known. I don't have family.  
My sister's dead, my father's dead, and my mother and  
I aren't on speaking terms. John has watched my back  
for four years and that says a lot in this world. I  
can't take the chance to trust in anything until I see  
it with my own eyes. I won't lose him on a  
technicality."  
Monica could only return the gesture in  
understanding. "I know."  
"I know you do." She paused, her brain changing gears  
as her wall came up once again. "When's the preflight  
meeting?"  
"Six o'clock in the field."  
"Damn it. It's only two."  
And so the rest of the day went, counting down the  
hours, counting down the minutes, until finally it was  
time to leave and Stark and her chaperone headed from  
Falls Church toward the border. There was no music  
this time, no discussion, only contemplative silence.  
Desperate silence. Double-checking, triple-checking,  
it-has-to-be-right silence. It was an operation of  
risk to begin with and the circumstances didn't help.  
Mulder had argued against bringing the entire task  
force to bear on the border field compound, reminding  
them that extraterrestrials were not stupid, and if  
they noticed the extreme manpower, which they would,  
the team put their chances of getting Doggett back in  
jeopardy. With that idea shot down, the statistics  
were not pretty. Three days of planning lead to seven  
agents - Stark, Mulder, Scully, Reyes, Edson, Jones  
and Webb - in this field waiting for the appearance of  
extraterrestrial life with only their service weapons,  
Kevlar vests, handheld radios and whatever else they  
could requisition from the FBI's vaults - which,  
considering the nature of the investigation, was  
anything they wanted, provided it didn't make a scene.  
"Are we good to go?" Stark demanded as she stopped  
the car by the side of the road and walked over to  
meet the rest of the assemblage.  
Travis handed her a vest and a radio. "As good as  
we're going to be."  
"I'll take those chances." Stark checked her Ehrlich  
400 for darts, micromissiles, gas pellets and the  
working laser, then put it back in its holster. She  
clipped the radio to her belt and continued to suit  
up, including the Kevlar vest and two arm bracers that  
fit under her jacket which contained some suitably  
sharp knives.   
Around her, the others did the same. There seemed to  
be no thing as too much preparation. The radio test  
worked and Edson seemed to be comfortable toting  
around a suitably decent-sized assault pistol. They  
were all on edge. The more power they could possibly  
have at their disposal, the better they felt, and  
Stark had no problem with that. Over the days her  
perception had colored: she didn't just want her  
partner back, she also now hungered for revenge.  
"How long are we going to have to wait?"  
Derrick checked his watch. "According to your man,  
anywhere from an hour to four or five."  
"Yeah, well let's hope it's not that long," Mulder  
said as he began to lead the agents down the  
embankment into the field.  
It was a fifteen or twenty-minute trip from the  
roadside to the middle of nowhere in which the  
compound was situated. It remained largely as they had  
seen it before: devoid of activity, empty, silent, yet  
somehow ominous. As if it, too, were waiting. But the  
wait was longer. Not as long as Absalom had suggested  
it might be, but long enough to set everyone on edge,  
plant doubt in everyone's minds. It was pitch black  
and nine-something when the sky was suddenly  
illuminated by the brightest of lights that made  
everyone recoil, and simultaneously know this was the  
moment they were waiting for. They stood from their  
vantage point as the sky became one blinding whiteness  
and took their last chance.  
Stark began issuing orders over the volume of the  
quivering earth that had begun. No one knew what  
precisely they were after, as the light obscured the  
ship, but no one needed to see it to know it was here.  
They had precious little time before UFO hunters and  
other tabloid types would notice and seize upon the  
scene, and by then it would be too late.   
"Watch your weapons, you know what happens with metal  
objects! Travis, Gary, take the back! Derrick, Agent  
Reyes, take the left side, Agent Mulder, Agent Scully,  
the right side!"  
Mulder glanced at her. "What about you?"  
"I'm going in the polite way. The front door."  
And she bolted down the hill, simultaneously  
unsheathing the Ehrlich, which shined bright silver in  
the blinding light. It began to grow warm, but she  
ignored the feeling, breaking in the front door of the  
compound and seeing just what the hell Absalom was  
talking about.  
The building was illuminated, warmed by the arrival,  
and the people that were suddenly there - she hadn't  
remembered seeing them before, at least - were barely  
awake. There were people that just happened to be  
there. It didn't make sense. But one of them had to be  
her partner. She heard the back door break in,  
followed by movement on both the right and left sides  
of the building as timbers around gaping holes in the  
walls gave way and clattered uselessly to the floor.  
It was time to storm the place. The others would take  
care of these people. She had but one man on her mind.  
Stark began with the room where Absalom had said he  
had found the woman, Teresa Hoese. She took a deep  
breath and kicked in the door.   
There was no one there.  
"Damn it!" she swore, looking up at the ceiling, at  
that light, with hatred in her eyes. What were they  
playing? Or did they even - No. They had to have him.  
But how could she tell?  
Then it hit her. The light seemed to be, rather than  
one light, several specific beams, overilluminated by  
the massive spotlight that always seemed to come with  
these things in every photo she'd been shown over the  
past few days. All she had to do was find which one of  
those beams had her partner's location broadcast.   
A gunshot rang out and somebody shouted something.  
She didn't care. She'd find out later.  
It was on the fifth of eight that she let out a  
breath she'd been holding far too long and started  
crying.  
"John!" she'd yelled when she saw him, then back out  
the door, to the others, "I've got him!"  
He looked like hell, she reflected as she went to her  
knees beside him. He looked dead. But he couldn't be  
dead. That was not possible. He wasn't even conscious,  
but he was there. He was pale and he felt somewhat  
cold to the touch as if he'd been out in harsh  
conditions way too long. Stark bit her lip. He could  
not die here. This could not end this way. She covered  
her partner with her jacket, the fabric catching the  
tears she was crying. Reaching over, she put her  
fingers against his neck. He could not die. This was  
not happening.  
"I've got a pulse!"  
  
-------------  
Sometimes I wonder if I'm ever going to make it home  
again  
It seems so far and out of sight  
I really need someone to talk to and nobody else  
Knows how to comfort me tonight  
  
Snow is cold, rain is wet  
Chills my soul right to the marrow  
I won't be happy 'til I see you alone again  
Till I'm home again and feeling right  
I want to be home again and feeling right...  
- "Home Again," Vonda Shepard  
  
END  
  
TO BE CONTINUED...  
  
  
=====  
"Oh, for God's sake, please be somebody else."  
- Lewis Black  
Natalie: Two guys have ascended 5 miles into the sky. They   
walked up a wall of ice and are preparing to knock on the   
door of heaven itself. There's really no end to what we can   
do. You know what the trick is?   
Dan: What?   
Natalie: Get in the game!   
- "The Quality of Mercy at 29K", "Sports Night" 


End file.
